I Don't
by PhoenixPhoether
Summary: A Weasley and a Malfoy are getting married. Harry's trying to have a few minutes of peace. Weddings make a certain blond rather amorous. Pretty much PWP. Epilogue-compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't get paid to write this, mercifully.

**Warnings:** Mature sex (in more ways than one).

**A/N:** This kind of has a plot, if you tilt your head. Also, it's borderline crack. It's not beta'd because it wasn't really worth the effort.

* * *

Harry Potter sat at a table under the pavillion, watching the dancers and impatiently tapping his foot. Even at forty-eight, with all his years of maturity, he still didn't particularly enjoy dancing. He had to smile a little at the way Ron elegantly swept around the floor with Hermione in his arms. Unlike Harry, he'd certainly developed grace and skill. It was nice to see that they were still so in love that they had eyes only for one another.

Suffering a small pang, Harry glanced over at Ginny, two tables away. She was laughing and talking with Audrey and Angelina, and she looked far younger than her age. Her deep red hair had softened to a lighter version, and her curves were rounder than in her youth, but she was still beautiful. She looked up and spotted Harry, offering a tiny smile. He returned it.

It was a marvel they could be in the same room together. Their constant bickering had reached fever-pitch, and they'd eventually decided to call it quits the summer before Lily's fourth year at Hogwarts. That was six years ago. The strange thing was that once they weren't living under the same roof, they'd begun to work through what had gone wrong. They'd become friends again, and now here they sat, coexisting more than peacefully at Rose Weasley's wedding. Harry briefly contemplated asking her for a dance before remembering exactly why that would be a bad idea. Squashing her toes whilst awkwardly trying to lead wouldn't do much for their relationship.

Instead, he chose to continue letting his eyes wander the pavillion. His gaze came to rest on another familiar face: Draco Malfoy. That in itself was another odd state of affairs. Until their children were Hogwarts-bound, Harry hadn't had any contact at all with Malfoy. Even afterwards, they saw one another at best a handful of times a year, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive or depart. Their children were another matter.

Rose had taken her father's charge to "beat Scorpius in everything" seriously. Fiercely competitive, she'd worked hard to secure her place as a top student. She was no less brilliant than her mother, of course. Unfortunately, Scorpius Malfoy was equally brilliant. Rose, outgoing and outspoken, made her intentions clear without mincing words—she was out to win. Scorpius was more understated, quiet and introspective. He was also sly, and he had the advantage of being Albus Potter's best friend from the moment they were sorted into Slytherin together. When Rose issued her challenge, Scorpius took it, only with a lot more subtlty. Now, more than ten years later, they were getting married so as to go on outdoing each other properly.

Harry decided that was some sort of weird poetic justice, that a Malfoy and a Weasley were getting married. It was a wonder both Ron and Draco didn't drop over dead on the spot when they found out. Harry had taken it all in stride; there was no escaping the blending of their families. He rather liked Scorpius, and besides, he'd been through the shock once already. James' wife, Hyacinth, was Scorpius' cousin on his mother's side.

In the previous two years, Harry had attended numerous weddings as the children of his classmates reached adulthood. Simply because the wizarding world wasn't particularly large, he and Malfoy had attended quite a lot of the same affairs. Their friends' children intermarried, unhindered by the prejudices of the past, largely influenced by their parents' desire not to repeat the previous generation's mistakes. Harry and Malfoy had gone from occasional terse acknowledgements to being in the same room for extended periods of time on a repeating basis.

The most uncomfortable one had been James and Hyacinth's wedding, which was the first of the lot. Malfoy had only been there because his divorce from his wife was recent, and they'd already planned to attend together before separating. For the sake of their niece, they'd apparently agreed to go as a couple. That had been a supremely bad decision, and Harry had ended up wanting to hex the daylights out of both of them. They'd had a public row and stormed off in opposite directions just as the happy couple were about to share their first dance. It was a mess.

After the yelling match, Malfoy had gone to sulk in the toilets. Harry had followed him, intending to have it out with him for making a scene at James' wedding. They'd argued, and Harry had threatened to hex him into the following week. He was prepared to make good on that when Malfoy surprised him by breaking down and sobbing. After that, Harry hadn't quite had the heart to carry through.

Now Harry sat under the pavillion at the Burrow, sipping his drink and marvelling that Draco Malfoy was in the home of the senior Weasleys—and not making snide remarks. He thought the world might stop spinning. Risking another glance, he saw Malfoy glowering at him. Harry scowled in return.

After another few minutes, Harry decided to retreat to the house for a bit of privacy and a stop in the loo. There was a facility set up for the guests, of course, so that Molly and Arthur wouldn't have people traipsing through their house constantly. But Harry was family, and he knew no one would mind. He slipped inside and made his way to the toilet.

He finished and was in the midst of washing his hands when there was a rap on the door. He called out, "I'm in here. Be out in a moment." He shut off the tap and dried his hands.

There was no response, and Harry didn't hear retreating footsteps. Instead, there was the distinct _snick_ of the lock disengaging. Harry pressed himself against the wall. He didn't draw his wand, but it was readily available, and his reflexes were good. He held his breath.

Before he could register what was happening, the other person was inside, and the lock slid back into place. He found himself with an armful of a gorgeous blond, on the receiving end of a heated snog. Once his brain kicked into gear, he returned it enthusiastically.

When they came up for air, Draco said, "Thank Merlin. I've been waiting all night for you to find a way to get us some privacy. I was starting to get quite annoyed with you. This is all your fault. You know how I am at weddings, thanks to you."

Harry chuckled and muttered a quick wandless _Muffliato_, waving his hand at the door. "I do. And I plan to take full advantage of that."

"Not if I take advantage of you first."

Draco didn't bother with further conversation. He kissed Harry aggressively whilst tugging impatiently at his dress robes, breaking contact only briefly to remove his own. He deposited both sets of robes in the corner and pressed against Harry, grinding their hips together. He was clearly already fully aroused, and after their desperate frotting, Harry was well on his way to the same stage. Draco tried to slide his hands up Harry's formal shirt, but the buttons were too tight. Hastily, Harry unfastened them to give Draco better access. When he'd managed his own, he reached out and flicked open Draco's shirt.

They yanked off the shirts, and Draco half-heartedly aimed for the pile of robes when he tossed them aside. He slipped his hands beneath Harry's undershirt, running his thumbs across Harry's nipples, smirking against Harry's lips when he gasped. Harry tugged on the hem of Draco's undershirt, and they barely managed to stop kissing long enough to finish stripping from the waist up.

Swiftly, Draco span Harry around so he faced the wall and leaned in close, pressing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He licked and sucked the place just below Harry's ear, causing both of them to moan pleasurably. Simultaneously, he ran his hands down Harry's back and sides, eliciting a shiver. When he reached Harry's belt, he unfastened it and pulled it off then made himself busy fiddling with the flies on Harry's trousers. He gave a breathy cry of triumph when he succeeded in opening them, pushing them down and out of the way. Harry braced his hands on the wall and widened his stance in anticipation.

Draco reached around to grasp Harry's cock. Harry groaned and tilted his head back so it rested on Draco's shoulder. He ground his arse backwards against Draco, and Draco ran his free hand through Harry's hair. Harry stilled the hand that was stroking him and reached back to touch Draco's hip.

"You still have too many clothes," he muttered.

Draco let go of Harry and worked at his flies, undoing the buttons and shoving everything down. They took the opportunity to kick their shoes, trousers and pants aside with the rest of their clothes. Returning to his place behind Harry, Draco pressed against him and rutted against his bare arse. They were both breathless and eager by the time Draco whispered a couple of spells and slid his hand down between Harry's cheeks. He slipped a finger inside, then followed it with a second one. When he began to move, Harry was almost panting.

"Merlin. Just fuck me already, will you?" he ground out.

"Gladly." Draco withdrew his hand and aligned himself, pushing inside.

Harry cried out as he entered, and they set up a rhythm, rocking together. "Touch me," he demanded. Draco reached around to grip him, stroking in concert with their thrusts.

Draco was close; Harry knew well enough by now the signals. He reached back and touched Draco, tugging him closer. Draco's hand moved from Harry's cock to his hip, bracing himself so he could increase his pace. Harry replaced Draco's hand with his own, desperately needing release. It only took another moment before Draco uttered a long, low moan and briefly stilled his motion before thrusting through the aftershocks. The feral sound of Draco's climax sent Harry over the edge, and he came hard against the wall, swallowing a grunt of pleasure.

They moved gently against each other as they calmed down. After a few minutes, Draco slipped free and they cast a few cleaning charms. They sorted through the pile of discarded clothing and began to put themselves back together. Harry looked ruefully at the heap of dress robes, knowing that even anti-wrinkle charms probably wouldn't entirely fix their sorry state. He shrugged and pulled on his trousers. It had been worth it.

Once they were dressed, they attempted to tidy themselves up. It wouldn't do to look freshly shagged when returning to the pavillion. Harry smoothed Draco's hair, and Draco straightened the collar of Harry's dress robes. They exchanged a brief, chaste kiss, and Harry enjoyed the smug smile Draco offered him. Satisfied—in more ways than one—they exited the loo.

On the way back through the kitchen, they were stopped by Lily and Rose. Rose eyed both men and her gaze turned stony. "You've been hexing each other again!" she accused indignantly. "And at my wedding, too. Uncle Harry, you promised!"

"Daddy, how could you?" Lily put in.

Harry and Draco exchanged a glance. They clearly had not put themselves together properly, and the young women had spotted it. Rose was obviously gearing up for a long, loud lecture—she really was her mother's daughter—when several more people appeared in the kitchen.

"Harry, where have you been? We came to find you before they cut the cake," Hermione said. Ron stood mutely behind her, his eyebrows raised as he took in Harry and Draco's dishevelled appearance.

Ginny, Astoria, and Scorpius were in the doorway, their expressions puzzled. Just as Harry was about to make up some lame excuse for why he and Draco looked like they'd been behaving like their thirteen-year-old selves, James showed up.

He took one look at them and said, "Merlin's balls, Dad. Were you and Mr. Malfoy shagging in the loo again? Couldn't you have at least held it in until you got home?"

There was a deathly silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco clench his teeth; a muscle in his jaw twitched. For his part, Harry was unable to keep his mouth from dropping open. He didn't spare a thought for why no one else looked particularly upset at what James had said.

Before he could stop himself, Harry squeaked out, "You knew about that?" He immediately covered his mouth with his hand in the vain hope he could stuff the words back in where they belonged.

James rolled his eyes. "It was a little hard to miss when you didn't cast your _Muffliato_ properly at my wedding. I went to have a pee, and I could hear damn near everything. The pair of you were arguing, and I was afraid you'd hexed each other unconscious when it suddenly got quiet. I went in, and apparently, your spell only extended outside the toilets as a whole, not your particular stall."

"Oh, god," Harry said faintly. When he had collected himself, he looked around to see that nearly every face bore an identical look, somewhere between being horrified and amused.

"You can all go back about your business," Draco said firmly. "We'll be there to see them cut the cake in a moment."

"Hang on," Harry said, holding up a hand to stop them leaving. "Why are none of you upset about this?"

"I might be a little upset that you were having sex in the toilet at my daughter's wedding," Hermione admitted. "But I'm neither angry nor surprised at who you were with."

"You're not?" Harry's eyebrows shot up.

Ron clapped him on the back. "You've got to admit, it does make a weird kind of sense. Nearly forty years of being obsessed with each other, it was about time you sorted yourselves." He turned around and walked out with his arm around his wife.

The others followed suit. Lily and Rose linked arms, and Harry heard Lily say, "So, they're, like, together now?" He didn't catch Rose's reply.

When they were alone, Harry turned to Draco nervously. "Er."

"You do have a way with words, Potter." Draco's tone was obnoxious, but he smiled, so that was all right.

Relieved, Harry asked, "So, what do we do now?"

"I'd say our secret's out, so we might as well enjoy it. Let's go watch them cut the cake. Then perhaps you'll finally let me teach you how to dance properly."

Harry leaned up to murmur, "I might if there's something in it for me."

Draco put his mouth against Harry's ear. "Oh, trust me, there will be." He glanced past Harry for a moment before grabbing his arse and pressing a kiss to his lips.

"Then let's go."

Hand in hand, they walked back out to the pavillion.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Writing this is my reward for finding out that my real-life novel was accepted by a publisher. I thought it might be fun to see The Incident that started what led up to the first part of this story. If I have enough interest, I may even turn it into a smutty, fluffy series. I mean, who doesn't want to know just why Draco can't make it through a wedding without...er...you know?

**Warnings:** Semi-public sex acts; things adult children should never know about their parents

* * *

**Thirteen Months Earlier**

James Potter had had just enough to drink to be pleasantly tipsy. He had to admit, he was enjoying his own wedding reception more than he'd anticipated. A glance over at his bride told him she was feeling much the same way. She was swaying on the dance floor in a ring with her new sister-in-law and their cousin, looking positively radiant. Instead of a traditional wedding gown, Hyacinth had opted for a finely-tailored set of white dress robes. James thought they were perfect on her and that she was quite possibly the most beautiful witch in the world. It wasn't even the champagne talking when it came to how he felt about her.

Shifting his gaze from the three young women, James watched the other people in attendance. For the most part, everyone was relaxed and happy following a beautiful ceremony and an elegant meal. Hyacinth's parents had chosen the venue. This was their only daughter, after all, and they wanted to do things properly. They'd selected a hall that catered to wealthy Wizarding families, tucked away in the countryside and hidden from Muggle eyes with an elaborate set of spells. James had to admit they had better taste than his own parents—particularly his father—would have. He'd have believed it was their wealth, but he knew his parents had money as well. They just opted not to spend their time in the same circles as Hyacinth's family.

Speaking of which, James eyed Hyacinth's aunt and uncle suspiciously. They were the only ones who appeared not to be having a good time. Hyacinth's Aunt Astoria was her mother's younger sister, and she'd had the misfortune to marry into the Malfoy family. James couldn't complain too much about them; Rose was in a fairly serious relationship with their son, and James wouldn't have been surprised if they were next in line to get married. Even so, he was wary of the chilly atmosphere that surrounded Scorpius' parents.

At present, they were seated next to each other, with their chairs angled away from one another. Mrs Malfoy had her arms folded and her legs crossed, waggling one foot impatiently. Mr. Malfoy had his hands on top of the table, fingers laced together, a hard expression on his face. It was obvious they were trying to hold it in for the sake of their niece, but they were not going out of their way to do anything beyond that. James reflected that it was probably as much as they could manage. From what he gathered talking to Scorpius, their divorce was rather recent, so he couldn't blame them.

James wasn't without sympathy for all of them. The whole thing sounded horrible, and he could relate. His own parents had made peace after their divorce, thank Merlin, but it had been bad for a while while they sorted themselves. On the other hand, Harry and Ginny probably wouldn't have sat next to each other at a wedding two months later, scowling into their champagne. James wondered what had possessed the Malfoys to attend together. In any case, he wasn't going to trouble himself thinking about their problems on his own wedding day. It would only put a damper on things.

He returned his attention to the band, which was setting up to replace the wireless they'd had playing during dinner. While they tuned their instruments, he slid out of his seat and went in search of Hyacinth, who was no longer dancing with Lily and Rose. He spotted her talking to her mother and stepped over to join them.

"There you are, darling," Daphne greeted him. "I believe they're ready for the pair of you to share your first dance."

Just as they were about to move to the dance floor, James was distracted by a fuss at one of the tables in the centre of the room. He groaned when he saw that it was Hyacinth's aunt and uncle, arguing. There was no way to tell what had set them off, and it didn't matter anyway. What had probably started as an exchange of snippy comments had escalated into an all-out battle. Hyacinth's parents rushed to separate them, but by the time they reached Mr and Mrs Malfoy, they were standing up and shouting at each other so loudly the rest of the room—except for the tuning musicians, who seemed undisturbed—had fallen silent.

"…because _you_ were fucking the god-damnd gardener!" Mr Malfoy yelled.

"Well, so were _you_!" Mrs Malfoy screamed back.

Even the musicians went quiet; no one moved for several heartbeats.

At last, Mr Malfoy, who had gone quite red in the face, said in a low voice, "And it was a damn sight better than anything I ever got from you."

With that last bit, Mrs Malfoy's mouth dropped open and her hand flew up. She smacked her ex-husband soundly across the face, gathered the skirts of her formal gown, and stormed off in the direction of the kitchens. Mr Malfoy drew himself up to his full height in an attempt to look authoritative and exited the opposite way. When they had both gone, the room remained still for a moment longer before conversation slowly began again.

James relaxed and took Hyacinth's hand. She was trembling, and she looked like she might cry. James was in no mood to have his wife in tears for any reason other than joy. The urge to hex both her aunt and uncle was overwhelming. He put his arms around her and pulled her close while they composed themselves.

Daphne and Ginny approached them. Ginny said, "The band is ready, but I'm not sure whether it's better to go ahead as planned or wait for the tension to pass." She glanced over her shoulder. "I've lost track of your father. He may have gone to see if he could do something."

James was certain he knew what that 'something' was. He understood perfectly well that although Harry and Mr Malfoy were capable of civility, their history was nearly legendary. He said to his mother, "Let's wait until Dad gets back." He didn't add that he thought they ought to see if anyone wound up at St. Mungo's first.

They stood around making polite conversation for a short time. Eventually, James excused himself to use the toilet. When he arrived at the men's loo, it took him by surprise that he could hear voices coming from inside, and they didn't sound friendly. He paused outside the door to listen, but he could only hear a word here and there. He frowned, alarmed to discern that there seemed to be a lot of swearing and what might have been growling.

"Fuck! Malfoy," he heard clearly. That was definitely his father. There was a muffled groan, and then everything went silent but for a faint buzzing.

Panicking, James wondered what his father and Mr Malfoy had done to each other. Heart thumping, he decided to go in after them, knowing he would have to be cautious. They'd most likely hexed each other unconscious, but if they hadn't, he didn't want to be caught in their crossfire. He shook his wand down in his sleeve until it brushed his hand. Unlike Albus, he hadn't followed their father into the Aurors, so his reflexes weren't quite as sharp. But he had the advantage of years of training to work at his Uncle George's shop, which meant he knew just as well how to be sneaky and silent. He pushed the door open slowly.

It took a moment to realise that the buzzing had stopped, which puzzled James until he heard quite a different sound. It was rather…wet? No, that wasn't quite right. He stood there, trying to work out what exactly he was hearing as his ears cleared.

Someone _hummed_. Startled, James peered at the nearest cubicle. He was about to step closer when he heard a breathy, "Oh, gods."

_What the hell?_ he thought. _Are they all right? Did they hurt each other?_

It took less than another ten seconds for it to sink in that they were most definitely _not_ all right, even if they weren't injured. By that time, the sounds they were making had gone from ambiguous someone-might-be-bleeding noises to someone-is-being-thoroughly-snogged noises. Before James could back out of the room, he heard the clink of a belt buckle against the tiles. Glancing down, he noted with horror that one of them had his trousers around his ankles and the other one had dropped to his knees.

James was rooted to the spot, incapable of making himself leave. He didn't particularly want to hear his father giving _or_ receiving a blow-job, especially not with Mr Malfoy. It wasn't that he was particularly bothered that his father might be shagging other men. After all, James had known Al was gay before Al knew it himself. It was more that he didn't care to be privy to the intimate details. He simply did not need a mental image of his father doing anything with anyone. But he was frozen in place, surrounded by the echoing sounds of the pair of them taking pleasure in each other.

He was pushed into action when he heard one of them—he honestly didn't care who at that point—utter a long, low moan. That was enough; he didn't need to be there for the next part. Cringeing at the continuous sex-noises, he crept as silently as he could towards the door. Once he was back outside the toilets, the faint buzzing resumed and he could no longer hear whatever was going on inside. He breathed a sigh of relief.

The pair of them had obviously not set the spell quite right to keep from being overheard. James decided that no one else needed to share in his misfortune, so he conjured a sign for the door that read, 'Closed for Maintenance'. Shuddering, he went in search of an alternate location to have a pee, deciding that when he was finished, they might as well have their dance after all. It was sure to distract anyone from making the same discovery he had, and he figured his father was too busy to care if he missed it.

* * *

Harry stood up, swiping the back of his hand across his lips. He quickly spelled both of them clean, and Malfoy yanked up his pants and trousers. Still panting a little, Malfoy leaned against the wall of the cubicle.

"Merlin, I needed that," he said. "I cannot believe I'm saying this as a compliment, but you have a hell of a mouth on you, Potter."

Harry swatted him. "Arse." He decided to shut Malfoy up by kissing him again. Malfoy returned it enthusiastically, not even complaining that they'd just had their dicks in each other's mouths. It made Harry wish they were still young enough they could have another go before stepping out of the toilets. Alas, his body was no longer quite so responsive.

Several minutes later, Harry stepped back again and leaned against the wall next to Malfoy. He grinned over at him then sobered. "I am sorry about your divorce. It's hell—I know."

"Yeah." Malfoy sighed. "Just as much my fault as hers, but it still hurts." He closed his eyes.

"I know." Harry paused. "Did you really shag the gardener?"

Cracking one eye and turning his head to the side to look at Harry, Malfoy answered, "Yes. And I wasn't lying about it being preferable." He was quiet for a moment before he said, "This was even better." His cheeks reddened.

Momentarily startled by his candidness, Harry shook his head and grinned. "Why, Malfoy, was that another compliment?"

"Don't let it go to your head." He elbowed Harry.

Harry considered things. "We certainly wasted a hell of a lot of time being nasty to each other, didn't we? Merlin. We could have solved all of both our problems if we'd realised we just needed to suck each other off."

For a moment, Malfoy just stared at him before he threw his head back and laughed. Harry joined in, and Malfoy pulled him close again so they leaned against each other. When their laughter faded, they kissed for a bit more, neither of them wanting to stop. It wasn't an option, though.

Harry withdrew, saying, "I think we'd better get back out there. We've likely missed James and Hyacinth's first dance, and I suspect it won't be long before someone comes looking for us." He tilted his head and offered what he hoped was a wicked smirk. "Nothing stopping us from finding our way back here after the cake, though."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Leaning up so he could whisper in Malfoy's ear, he said, "Scared…Draco?"

"Y-you wish." He paused. "Harry."

Fairly certain it was the use of his given name and not the challenge he'd issued that made Draco's breath hitch, Harry leaned up to offer several more heated kisses as insurance. "Good. Come find me later."

Reluctantly, they parted and Harry cancelled the spell on the toilets. When they exited, he turned briefly and took note of the 'Closed for Maintenance' sign. _Huh. I don't remember putting that there. Must've done it without thinking—we _were_ a little busy_. Shrugging, Harry followed Draco back into the hall, ready to enjoy the rest of the reception.

* * *

By the time James saw his father and Mr Malfoy again, the first dance was long since over and the other guests were enjoying the dance floor. When Harry approached him, James had trouble looking him in the eye.

"Did I miss the dance?"

James flinched. "Yeah."

"Sorry. I was trying to smooth things over with Mr Malfoy." He slung an arm around James' shoulders, and James tried not to stiffen.

"No problem, Dad." He cleared his throat. "Everything all right?" He prayed his father wouldn't explain.

"I believe so, yes." Harry grinned. "You won't have any more trouble with the Malfoys tonight."

"Erm, that's good." _Oh, gods_, James thought. _What do I say? Thanks for giving a blowie—or getting one—or possibly both...gah!_ To distract himself, he said, "I think we're going to serve the cake soon."

"Excellent!" Harry replied enthusiastically. "I love cake!"

James was so relieved that his father seemed to be interested in something else that he didn't bother questioning why he was so excited about the cake. He turned away to go let his mother and his in-laws know, just barely missing the searing glance and naughty smile Harry threw at Mr Malfoy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I wanted to post this yesterday, as it was Mother's Day here in the US. But I was too busy being spoiled rotten by my spouse and kids. Anyway, here's part 3 of this increasingly weird tale.

**Warnings:** Smut, and Things You Don't Want to Discuss with Your Parents.

I love all the favorites and follows this has gotten so far. If you have a request for a situation in this story, go ahead and leave it in the comments or PM me. I'll incorporate any suggestions I get, within the parameters of the storyline.

* * *

**Mother Knows Best**

While it wasn't quite the wedding of the year, the union of two well-known Ministry officials was nothing to sneeze at. The recently-appointed heads of Magical Transportation and the Ludicrous Patents Office had, to everyone's great relief, finally gone public with their relationship and were legalizing their union. In addition to their departments, anyone else deemed even remotely important at the Ministry, past or present, had been invited.

The elegant, formal affair was held in the Ministry itself, in the new extension to the building. A grand ballroom was festooned with gold and black decorations, floating candles, and seasonal floral arrangements. The ceiling had been charmed to show a map of the constellations. Following the ceremony, guests milled around sipping champagne and engaging in light conversation whilst waiting for dinner to be served.

Across the room, Draco spotted the Head Auror. He was talking with a young man Draco thought he remembered working in Magical Games and Sports, but he wasn't sure. The young man was of average height, slender with caramel-coloured curly hair. He tilted his head flirtatiously and leaned in closer. For no good reason, it irritated Draco to watch him, so he turned away.

It had been two months since he'd gone to his niece's wedding and had a raging blow-up with his ex-wife. Things had mostly calmed down, and he hadn't seen Astoria since then, which was a great relief. Unfortunately, he also hadn't seen Potter—Harry—since then either, aside from a few brief exchanges when they happened to cross paths in the Ministry lifts. He virtually never had any reason to be in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement these days.

Perhaps it shouldn't have bothered him, but he wondered why Harry hadn't made an effort to contact him since the wedding. He reminded himself that Harry likely thought of their encounter as a one-off. After all, they hadn't even been friends prior to that. But Harry's hero complex should have prevented him from taking advantage of Draco in his vulnerable, recently-divorced, publicly-outed-by-his-wife state. Not that Draco hadn't been an entirely willing participant, but he'd always thought Harry was a bit too noble for such things.

With a sigh, he turned to the women standing next to him. It was unnerving to see his mother talking with Molly Weasley as though they'd been friends for a lifetime. They were trading pictures with Draco's Aunt Andromeda, who was apparently the reason they'd become acquainted in the first place. Draco peered over his mother's shoulder to see that they were all looking at a photo of Aunt Andromeda's new great-granddaughter, cooing with delight. That explained things; babies were the single greatest unifying factor. Even Draco had to admit she was cute, though he rolled his eyes.

He wandered away from them, looking for something to occupy himself. These extravagant affairs—which the Ministry had begun having since expanding the new section—bored him to tears. He didn't even know the newlyweds well, as he didn't work in either of their departments. Deciding that a drink might be in order, he headed towards the bar.

Before he'd gone ten paces, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Ah, there you are, Malfoy."

Draco whirled around to find himself face-to-face with the Head Auror. He scowled and took a step backwards. "What do you want, Potter?" he snarled.

Harry looked amused rather than affronted. "I thought I might like to have your opinion on some Ministry business."

"Oh? Well, send my secretary a message, will you? In case you hadn't noticed, we're at a wedding. I'm not working."

"Actually, I think we should talk now. Why don't we find someplace quieter?" Harry motioned to the exit.

Draco sighed. "Fine."

He followed Harry out of the ballroom and into the corridor. This part of the building was unfamiliar to him, since it was so new. Harry apparently had no such issue; he led the way down the doorway-lined hall. They stopped at one, and Harry pulled out his wand. He opened the door and ducked inside. Draco hesitated.

"You coming in? I promise I'm not going to hex you."

Draco scoffed. "It's not that. I just cannot fathom what could be so important that you'd need to lead me into a locked office in a deserted corridor during our coworkers' wedding." He entered the room, and Harry shut the door with a wave of his hand. "Listen, Potter, if this is about something classified—"

Before he could finish the sentence, Harry was on him, kissing him eagerly. There was a beat before Draco decided it wouldn't hurt to respond. For quite some time, all conversation was forgotten.

Harry kissed his way along Draco's jaw, nipping a little here and there. When he reached Draco's ear, he murmured, "Merlin. I've been watching you all night." He put out his tongue and traced the shell of Draco's ear, causing him to shiver. "You look incredible."

"Why—" Draco panted a little as Harry resumed his explorations of Draco's ear, "—didn't you say something sooner?" He groaned and tipped his head back, smacking it against the wall. "Shit."

Pausing, Harry replied, "I've been trying to. I had to get away from that bloody wanker Thomason." He made a frustrated noise. "He's always flirting, but it doesn't mean anything. Thinks he can fuck his way up the ranks, but I'm too old and experienced for that shite to work on me." He sucked Draco's earlobe into his mouth.

When Draco tried to answer, all that came out was a faint squeak, which Harry muffled with another long kiss. He began to fiddle with the clasps on Draco's formal robes, tangling his fingers in the folds because he was too busy trying to slide his tongue into Draco's mouth. Knowing he had to stop things before they went further, Draco pressed his hand on Harry's chest. Harry briefly ceased his handsy wanderings to arch an eyebrow at Draco.

Draco shoved harder. "Stop. No, I meant why didn't you at least owl me?" He cringed at his petulant tone.

Harry stepped back. "I wanted to," he said. "Desperately. I just thought I should let you make the first move, since your divorce was so recent. After mine, I wasn't ready for more than a few one-offs." He sighed. "I've been thinking about you, though."

To prevent Harry from making another go at snogging him, Draco crossed his arms and leaned away. He glared at Harry. "Oh? Been thinking about me while you fuck other men?"

Reeling as though Draco had slapped him, Harry gaped. "What? No. Why would you say that?" He scowled back. "Were you thinking of me while you fucked your bloody gardener?"

"Go to hell. You've no idea how it's been for me. My ex-wife is dragging her feet on carrying out the terms of our divorce, and our grown son won't talk to either of us after what happened at his cousin's wedding. You and I sucked each other—twice!—in the men's toilet at the classiest Wizarding venue in Britain, but you couldn't even be arsed to owl me afterwards. And now you want to drag me into a disused office at a Ministry event for probably the same purpose on the grounds that you've been 'thinking about me'. Fuck you, Potter." He straightened his robes and made to walk away.

Harry grabbed his arm. "Wait. Look, I do owe you an explanation, if you care to hear it."

"I shouldn't." Draco pursed his lips then sighed heavily. "But I suppose I'm curious as to why you waited until now to do anything."

"I already told you that I didn't know what it meant to you." He let go of Draco's arm and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Gin and I have been divorced for more than five years. You've been done for less than five months. I'm happy to have a go with you now and again, but I'm not looking to be a replacement for either your ex-wife or your gardener. I took a chance tonight that maybe you fancied a quickie when I saw your reaction to Thomason."

"You—you saw that?"

Harry chuckled. "It was hard to miss the way you _Crucioed_ him with your eyes."

Draco couldn't help smiling faintly. "Yes, well, he was a bit too far into your personal space. Might want to watch it with that one."

"I'm having him transferred. He's not much of an Auror anyway."

"He works for you? I thought he was in Games and Sports."

"That's because he used to be a professional Quidditch player. Thinks he owns the world," Harry replied. "I'm sending him to Magical Creatures on the grounds that he has no ability to work with humans."

In spite of himself, Draco laughed. "That ought to sort him. Department's full of lunatics." He cleared his throat. "Good to know he won't be getting in your pants any time soon."

"Or ever," Harry agreed. He leaned in closer. "It's up to you if you want to be the one who gets in them tonight. We can go back out there, or we can finish what we started."

Draco looked into Harry's vibrant green eyes, waging an internal debate. Part of him knew Harry was right; his divorce was too recent. A greater part of him wanted to grab Harry and push him up against the wall, doing naughty things to him until they'd both forgotten where they were. The latter won out.

Instead of answering, Draco pushed Harry until his back hit the wall. He captured Harry's lips with his own, kissing hard enough to leave a mark. They spent the next several minutes exploring each other's mouths while Harry's hands wandered over the top of Draco's expensive robes. He reached down and cupped Draco's backside through the several layers of clothing.

"God, your arse is fantastic," he murmured. He pulled Draco close enough for their bodies to align.

Draco decided there was entirely too much fabric separating them. He slipped his wand out of his sleeve and flicked it, wordlessly sending their robes to hang neatly on the coat rack by the door. Harry sniggered.

"Nice trick. Suppose you teach it to me sometime."

"Absolutely. But not now—I'm busy." Draco proved his point by pressing against Harry and kissing him again.

They moved against each other, touching and tasting and grinding until Draco thought his head might explode. He made short work of unfastening Harry's trousers, pushing them down and out of the way before setting in on his own. When he had freed himself from his clothes, he let his hand slide down between them to gently rub and tease Harry's cock, causing him to utter a delicious moan.

Encouraged, Draco took both of them in his hand and began to stroke. They thrust against each other, seeking release. He gradually increased pace and pressure until they were both gasping and groaning.

"Fuck, that feels so good." Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes, his mouth hanging open and his breath coming in short gasps. "Shit."

Draco pressed closer, sucking on the soft, sensitive spot behind Harry's ear. He slipped one hand up inside Harry's shirt to fiddle with his nipple. That did it; with a sharp intake of breath, Harry jerked and spilled over Draco's hand and both their cocks. Draco pumped through Harry's orgasm, his skin tingling and his belly clenching as his own hit. He let go, waves of pleasure rolling through him.

He remove his hand from their cocks and cast a mild cleansing charm, effectively banishing the mess they'd made before leaning his forehead on Harry's shoulder. They remained there for several minutes while their breathing returned to normal. After a few minutes, they separated and pulled their trousers back up.

While they were putting their robes back on, Harry touched Draco lightly on the arm. "Let's not make more of this than it is, all right?"

"Of course." _But what if I'm already too far gone for that? _Draco swallowed and refused to meet Harry's gaze.

"But I wouldn't mind if you wanted to have a drink sometime."

Draco hid the smile that threatened to expose the way his heart beat faster at that suggestion. "That would be…agreeable."

He opened the door to the room and peered out. When he heard feminine laughter, he quickly hid behind the door and peeked around it. He nearly groaned when he saw three women exiting a room twenty feet away. It was his mother, his aunt, and the eldest Mrs Weasley. Draco turned around and scowled at Harry, who had come up behind him.

In a ferocious whisper he said, "You didn't tell me we were down near the toilets."

Apparently, he hadn't been quiet enough, as the women stopped right outside the door he was holding. His mother caught his eye and raised her eyebrows.

"Draco, darling. What are you doing in there?"

"Mr Potter and I were just discussing a bit of business."

Aunt Andromeda frowned. "We're at a wedding. This couldn't have waited until Monday?"

"Er, no," Harry put in. "I have a…report to file."

Draco restrained himself from elbowing Harry; the man was a terrible liar. Fortunately, the women seemed to have an entirely different idea about what they'd been doing.

Mrs Weasley said, "Oh, dear. You two are as bad as Arthur and Lucius. I suspect those two secretly enjoy having a go at one another as often as they can manage it. Harry, why don't you come back to the ballroom and forget whatever it is you were arguing about. I'm sure it's not more important than enjoying a slice of that impressive cake they have."

"Did you say cake?" Harry asked. For some strange reason, his cheeks turned quite pink. "I…er, I'm not sure I'm in the mood for—"

"Nonsense," Andromeda said. She looped her arm through Harry's. "Now, I know I'm an old woman, but I can still dance, and you owe me one."

Mrs Weasley, Aunt Andromeda, and Harry set off up the hallway, but Narcissa hung back. When the others were out of earshot, she rounded on her son.

"You were neither arguing nor discussing business in there, were you?"

"Mother!" Draco felt his cheeks heat up. He had no wish to discuss his activities with his nearly eighty-year-old mum.

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure I don't need to educate you on the impropriety—not to mention the perils—of public sex." When he went to protest, she held up her hand. "However, your secret is safe with me." She smirked at him.

"Ah, thank you."

"Besides," she said, her voice turning wistful, "there was a time when your father and I—"

He cut her off. "I don't want to know."

"Very well. Then escort me back to the ballroom. If my sister is still young enough to enjoy a dance, then surely I am, and I expect my son to show he has manners after all."

Draco sighed deeply and held out his arm for his mother. This was going to be a long, long night.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Well, here's the next part. I'm changing this fic from "complete" to "in progress." Technically, each story stands alone (more or less), but since there does seem to be sort of a plot here, and since I'm not done posting, it's not actually complete. If anyone has ideas you want used, comment or PM me. I try to update once a week.

**Warnings:** Voyeurism. Smut. Sappiness.

* * *

**Spies Like Me**

Harry couldn't help feeling annoyed and irritable as he shuffled his motley group of junior-level Aurors into their positions. The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement was on the job, despite the fact that their presence was unnecessary at this wedding. The mother of the bride was convinced that her precious angel, who was marrying a well-known Quidditch player, was in mortal peril and had bribed—er, _enlisted the services of_—Ministry personnel. It hardly made a difference that there had been peace in the Wizarding world for thirty years.

When Harry had complained about it to Draco the last time they were together, Draco had only laughed at him. He'd said, "That's Pansy for you. Her only daughter from her second—no, wait third? I'm not sure—marriage is getting married herself. She's going to be over-the-top about everything."

Speaking of Draco, that was another cause of Harry's misery. So far, they were taking their relationship at an agonizingly slow pace. They'd fooled around at those two previous weddings and been out for drinks at Muggle pubs a handful of times, but that was it. He didn't care that they weren't defining their relationship, but it was absolute torture keeping his hands to himself out of respect for Draco's post-divorce emotional state. At that point, he just wanted a decent shag, damn it.

It didn't help in the least that Draco was in attendance at the wedding. Whilst Harry and his crew of inexperienced Aurors lurked in the shadows and sampled food in the kitchens, Draco was enjoying himself with the rest of the guests. By the time they had served cake, and a lot of alcohol, Harry was physically and mentally exhausted, causing him to be snappish with his Aurors. He wound up making Allsworth cry twice, though the second time was mostly Allsworth's fault for being an incompetent fool. Harry apologised regardless and said he needed some air, escaping to the balcony to stare moodily out over the countryside.

He felt a hand on his back and turned his head to look. Draco stood slightly behind him, smiling faintly. "It's been quite an evening."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. This is fucking ridiculous. Why am I here again?"

"Because Pansy is rich, paranoid, and demanding."

"Right. Besides that, of course."

Draco chuckled. "I am glad you're here." He leaned in and brushed his nose against the side of Harry's face.

"I thought you wanted to keep this private. Someone might see us out here."

"Mm. True." He stepped back. "Maybe we should find someplace else."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "I might have an idea."

Because he'd had to place his Aurors at strategic locations, Harry now knew the venue far better than he had when James had gotten married that summer. He had a good idea where all the private locations were and whether they would be any good for an impromptu groping session. Not that he'd been counting on that, of course. He led Draco through the building to the back, where there was a business office and several storage rooms. He chose one of the larger rooms and let them inside.

This particular room held all the linens for the tables. There was a low desk in the middle, and the walls were lined with shelves. Harry grinned. It was just about perfect. They could even transfigure the desk if they liked. He reached for Draco.

He was too slow. Before he knew what was happening, Draco had shoved him up against the wall and was kissing him as though he might never be able to do so again. It was rough, greedy, and desperate, and Harry gave in willingly. He had just enough presence of mind to cast a locking spell and a _Muffliato_ before he was consumed. In no time, they were grinding against each other, and Draco's hands were all over him, trying to work the clasps on his purple robes.

Between grunts, Harry managed to throw in a desperate, "Oh, god, please!" here and there. Draco took the hint and backed off, letting Harry shed his own robes whilst he did the same. They kissed deeply in between yanking off layers of clothes, all of which ended up in a heap.

"I've wanted to do this for ages," Harry panted once they were naked. "You've no idea."

"I think I've a pretty good idea, actually," Draco replied.

"Are we here to fuck?" No sense in beating around the bush.

Draco stepped back. "I don't know. Are we?"

"God, I hope so."

He dug his wand out of the pile of clothes and transfigured the desk then dragged some of the table linens off the shelves and turned them into bed-covers. Meanwhile, Draco carefully set their clothes on one of the shelves. Harry glanced over his shoulder and chuckled at Draco's fastidious care. He was rewarded with a slight sneer. When Harry was through making things comfortable, he stepped behind Draco and ran his hand down his back, following it with light kisses.

"Mm. Maybe I don't really want to just fuck after all."

"Oh?"

Harry span Draco around to face him. "I want to do this right." He pulled him in for a long, sensual kiss.

The only reply was a contented hum.

* * *

Pansy was surprised when Draco disappeared from the reception. He hadn't looked like he'd been having much fun, which disappointed her. She would not stand for miserable guests at her only daughter's wedding. When he ducked out, she followed him for some combination of scolding and cajoling. She located him heading for the balcony and quickened her pace to catch up.

To her surprise, he wasn't out there alone. He was talking to none other than Head Auror Harry Potter. Pansy scowled. Potter had been nothing short of unfriendly and unhelpful the entire time they were preparing for the wedding. He clearly did not understand how important it was—or how important _she_ was, rather. There was no earthly reason Draco should be talking to him; it wasn't as though they were friends. Draco was _her_ guest, and Potter wasn't going to make the night worse for him—that was her job. She intended to interrupt them, if for no other reason than that they both deserved her wrath.

When she got closer, she saw that Draco had his arm around Potter's waist from behind and—was he actually nuzzling Potter's face? Her mouth hung open for a moment, but she shut it quickly when she heard Draco say, "Maybe we should find someplace else."

Well, that was certainly interesting. She didn't catch Potter's reply, but when they stepped away from the balcony, she followed them, keeping to a reasonable distance. They made their way down a corridor and slipped through one of the doorways. Pansy waited a few minutes and then approached. She paused outside the door.

The sound of kissing and heavy breathing drifted out from under the door, but it was replaced by an odd buzzing sound. Pansy tried to clear her ears, but it didn't cease. She understood them to be using some sort of silencing spell. That was no trouble; Pansy was always prepared. She had long ago learnt to keep a set of extendible ears on her at all times, knowing she might catch one of her children—or one of her husbands—at something. She worked it through the crack under the door.

"Oh, god, please!"

Pansy smirked. Harry Potter, practically_ begging_ Draco to give it to him? Yes, that sounded about right. She listened to the sound of them kissing a bit more, along with some nebulous rustling sounds. They were talking again, and Pansy distinctly heard Potter ask, "Are we here to fuck?" She missed Draco's answer because she was too busy thinking, _Now, _that_ I've got to see_. She reached back into her robes and pulled out an extendible eye. Who knew the Weasleys could invent such useful products? She released the eye, and it followed the ear under the door.

They were in the linens room. Potter had just finished making a bed—where the hell did that even come from?—and Draco was neatly laying their clothes on a shelf. Potter laughed at him a little, and Draco scowled back. Potter came up behind him and touched him gently, then trailed kisses down his back. Pansy shivered as though Potter had touched her instead.

"Mm. Maybe I don't really want to just fuck after all," Potter said.

"Oh?"

Potter turned Draco around. "I want to do this right." They kissed deeply, and Pansy sighed.

She half-expected Potter to just shove Draco up against the wall and for them to start going at each other like animals. Instead, Potter stepped away and took Draco's hand. He pulled him towards the bed, where they lay down on their sides, facing each other. For a few minutes, they weren't even kissing. Potter put his hand on Draco's cheek and slid it down, caressing his neck, his shoulder, his arm. At last he leaned in and captured Draco's lips, delivering a lingering, sensual kiss.

Pansy nearly moaned. She stifled it, afraid her voice would carry through the door. As Potter and Draco's naked snogging intensified, she grew increasingly aroused. She muffled a gasp when Potter rolled Draco onto his back and began kissing, licking, and sucking his way down Draco's chest. He took his time, seeming to have made it his personal mission to cover every inch of Draco's pale skin. When he reached Draco's cock, he put out his tongue and tasted just the tip before engulfing it in his mouth.

Draco drew up his knees, and Potter settled between them, his head bobbing up and down. Draco arched his back and groaned. "Stop. Please."

Potter released him with a slight pop. "Tell me what you want."

Propping himself on his elbows, Draco took several gasping breaths before he answered, "It's my turn."

He turned over, and Potter lay down on his back. Draco ran his hands over Potter's chest reverently. Even Pansy could see that he had kept himself in excellent shape. She didn't care that this was Potter she was admiring—she knew a good body when she saw one. In addition to his firm muscles, she had an excellent view of his dick. It was absolutely beautiful, the sort she liked her own lovers to have—full, but not excessively long and not too thick, slightly curved with a dusky pink tip, jutting out of a crop of neatly trimmed dark curls. No wonder Draco wanted him so badly. He was bloody gorgeous. She wondered which of them was going to do the fucking.

While she was thinking all of that, Draco had moved on to sucking and stroking Potter's perfect penis. He was writhing under Draco's ministrations until he finally said, "Shit…I'm getting close."

Draco pulled away and sat back. "Do you have—"

"I can do it with a spell."

"Wandless?"

"Yes."

"That's sexy." A moment later, Draco twitched and looked down at his hand. "Nice."

"Mm. Go slow, will you? It's been sort of a while."

Draco didn't move. "It has?" He frowned.

Potter propped himself up. "Yeah. I wanted—well, I wanted you," he said. His cheeks coloured.

Almost too quietly for Pansy to hear, Draco said, "Me, too."

Potter grinned and dragged Draco down for another kiss. They stayed that way, rocking against each other until they were both gasping. Draco reached down between them, and Potter spread his legs further. Pansy braced herself against the door, her thighs pressed together as her arousal intensified. She watched Draco use his long, slender fingers to open Potter up, taking his time and making Potter wriggle beneath him.

Draco withdrew his hand and aligned himself. He pushed in slowly, pulling out and thrusting forwards a little further each time. Pansy allowed the tiniest whimper to escape her lips at the erotic sight. She clenched and released her muscles, her heart rate increasing steadily. By that time, Draco was moving rhythmically, and Potter had a hand around his own cock, stroking in time with Draco's thrusts. They were both panting and groaning.

With a shout, Draco's body tensed and his movement ceased momentarily. He began to move again slowly. Potter sped up his wanking, but Draco stopped him and replaced Potter's hand with one of his own. He stroked until Potter's face contorted and his hips bucked up, spilling over his stomach and Draco's hand. Pansy's body tightened, and she shuddered. She hadn't truly come, but she was very nearly as satisfied as if she had. She breathed deeply, descending from her high.

Draco wiped his hand on the sheets and slid out, flopping down next to Potter. They lay together quietly for a bit, Draco's head pillowed on Potter's chest and Potter stroking his hair lightly. Pansy relaxed, preparing to reel in the extendibles and return to the wedding reception. She was stopped by Potter and Draco's conversation. Curious about their post-coital pillow talk, she remained where she was.

"Harry, what exactly are we doing?"

There was a pause, and Potter's hand stilled. "Didn't you hear what I said before? When I said I wanted to do this properly, I meant that you're not someone I'm fucking just because I can. Our history won't allow it, and you mean more to me than that."

Draco extracted himself and turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his brows knit together. Potter saw his expression, and his face fell. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—never mind."

He made to stand up, but Draco grabbed his wrist. "Wait." When Potter looked back at him, he continued, "You mean more to me, too."

Potter's shoulders slumped and a look of relief passed over his face. He settled back on the bed. They kissed for a bit longer, light but full of meaning and emotion, caressing each other's faces and hair. Pansy's eyes brimmed, and she dabbed at them. Her first six husbands had all been some variation of bastards, terrible lovers, or both. _If I get married again, I want whatever _they_ have_, she thought, glancing at Potter and Draco one last time. She discreetly withdrew the extendible ear and eye and hid them in her robes once more, slipping quietly around the corner and back towards the reception.

* * *

Harry and Draco put their clothes back on, and Harry sent Draco ahead, offering to stay behind and clean up. Eventually, he too made his way back amongst the guests. In a much better mood, he sought out his team and told them to relax and enjoy themselves for the last bit of the evening. It was obvious nothing untoward was going to happen. Judging by Pansy's behaviour, she was too tipsy to notice or care whether the Aurors kept to their posts.

After another hour, Harry returned to the balcony. This time, he was just there to appreciate the cool air and the shimmering stars. Once again, he felt a hand on his back.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco. "Just enjoying the view." He decided to take a chance. "Do you want to come to mine when we're through here?" He cleared his throat. "Maybe spend the night?"

Draco's eyes danced. "Absolutely. Where do you live these days?"

"London. But it's unplottable, so I'll need to write it down for you." He drew out a slip of parchment and put his address on it, then pressed it into Draco's hand.

"I think I'm leaving soon. I have to find Pansy first, though. She keeps avoiding me, and every time I see her, she turns around and walks the other direction. I think she's still angry with me for being a miserable git earlier. I should probably apologise."

Harry laughed. "I wasn't much better." He glanced around before leaning up for a chaste kiss. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Count on it." Draco flashed him a smile and disappeared back inside, leaving Harry's stomach twirling pleasantly with anticipation.


End file.
